


the hands to hold my heart

by driedflowers



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Bad Puns, Fluff, M/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:01:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedflowers/pseuds/driedflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You may have noticed that Simon's last name is the same as a certain form of winter precipitation. Baz and Penny certainly have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the hands to hold my heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for [asknatashapitch](http://asknatashapitch.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Merry Christmas!
> 
> Title from Skip to the Good Part by He Is We.

It’s snowing outside. The first flakes of the year make the roads glossy wet instead of fluffy white, but they’re starting to accumulate on the trees. It must be cold, too; the people on the sidewalk tighten scarves and shove hands in pockets, quickening their step.

It’s days like this that really make me appreciate the wonders of modern heating technology, as well as blankets, and having a boyfriend to curl up with under them. (Not that he does much to provide warmth.)

Baz is here, ostensibly to make cookies, but really to sit with me on the couch and soak up my presence before he goes to visit his family for Christmas. Penny complains from the kitchen every few minutes and says she’ll throw flour at us if we don’t help, but I think it’s an empty threat. It’s one I’m willing to risk to stay here with Baz, at any rate. We’ve lived together for eight years, but I still feel like I can’t get enough of him.

“How do you feel about all this _snow_ , Simon?”

I can just hear Baz smirking. (At least he called me Simon, though.) (He’s getting better.)

“Okay. That’s it. Penny, get in here,” I yell to the kitchen. She comes into the room, wiping flour off her cheek.

“Hey, Simon. Basil.” She nods at him.

“You missed a spot,” Baz says, pointing at her forehead.

Penelope nearly growls. Then she turns to me.

“Did you see it’s _snow_ ing outside? Eh, Simon?” she says, walking over to high five Baz. It’s going to be a long winter.

“That’s what this is about. I’ve made a decision. You two only get to make one Snow joke a day, that’s it.”

“Each, right?” Penny asks, aghast.

“Of course.”

“Good. Having to argue with Basil about whose turn it was would be a nightmare.”

Baz scoffs. “How, exactly, do you plan to enforce this?”

I put my fingertips on his chest and try my best to look sultry instead of confused. “Oh, I’ll think of something.”

It must work, because Baz’s eyebrows go up and he grabs my wrist instead of laughing at me. I don’t move my hand.

“For Merlin’s sake. If you’re literally going to call me in here, reign it in a little.”

“Right. Sorry, Penny. But I mean it. Quit it with the jokes.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. By the way, if you don’t come help me clean up, I’m going to eat all the cookies myself.” Penny stalks out.

This threat works. Baz and I exchange a look and dart off to the kitchen.

* * *

It’s getting dark outside, and it’s still snowing. It’s ethereal, the way fat flakes drift in and out of the light cast by streetlamps and shop windows.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Baz says.

He’s kind of always doing things like this. Not that it’s weird or anything. (And not that I’m complaining.) I think it’s because he really likes being seen in public with me. We don’t usually see anyone we know, but I kind of get it. It makes things feel... more _real_ , somehow. Having people look in reminds me that there’s something to look in to.

I nod and start putting my shoes on. Baz tries to leave without his scarf, but I grab it from the coffee table and fasten it around his neck.

“I am _dangerous_ , I am a _dangerous vampire monster_ , this is...” Baz mumbles indignantly as I finish tying the scarf. I kiss him to shut him up. It still works. (I was kind of afraid that it would stop working.) (I’m not sure it ever will.)

I take his hand as soon as we’re outside. We walk past bake shops with yule log cakes in the windows, miniature Christmas trees in wooden barrels on the sidewalk, posters for a production of A Christmas Carol at a local high school. It’s strange, seeing all these normal things. It’s the first Christmas in eight years I’ve spent away from Watford (last year feels like it doesn’t count), and it’s like a constant reminder that my magic is gone. But it’s no longer a stabbing pain. It’s more of a dull ache now, and it fades even more when I squeeze Baz’s hand.

“Where are we going?” I ask after a few minutes.

Baz shrugs. “Nowhere, I guess. I just wanted to enjoy the weather.” I think I see the ghost of a smirk flit across his face, but I can’t be sure. He doesn’t say _snow_ , though, so I let it slide. This time.

We stop at a crosswalk to wait for the light to change, and Baz turns his face to the sky. I’m a little afraid of the glint in his eyes.

He grabs my hand suddenly, and draws it to his face. I raise my eyebrows, but cooperate.

“Look. There’s Snow on my eyelashes.”

I groan, and force myself not to push him into traffic.

“Crowley, Baz.” He seems to find my reaction all the more amusing. “Is this why you wanted to go on a walk? Seriously?”

“Well, if I’d known you were going to be so unappreciative of my delicately crafted jokes, I might have made a different decision.” I think Baz is trying to sound offended, but he can’t keep a straight face.

I smile at him and shake my head. _This is the idiot I’m in love with_. “Let’s go home. I think my fingers are going to freeze off.”

We walk in silence for awhile as I plot my revenge.

“I could—I could get back at you. I could get really into football and make Pitch jokes until you break up with me.”

“But you won’t,” Baz says, smirking. “And I won’t. Break up with you, that is.”

“I know.”

“Or let you get away with Pitch jokes. I really have the upper hand here: magic, vampire strength, fangs...”

“I get it: you have all the power in this relationship.”

“Are you kidding?” Baz says, pulling me out of the way of the crowd, to the edge of the sidewalk. He looks at me, and I think my heart melts. “Almost since we met...” he murmurs, taking my face in his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Simon Snow fic I've written since Carry On came out. It's so different. I hope the characterization came out alright.


End file.
